


Fate Fell Short This Time

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: He would probably never really get over it, not completely, but he thought about it less and less every day, and eventually the raw pain would dull to a mild ache.Shiro mourns Adam. Keith helps.





	Fate Fell Short This Time

**Author's Note:**

> Today is a hard day for me, so here is some pain for the rest of you. I cried the entire time writing and editing it, so if there are any errors, blame my impaired vision. Enjoy.

Shiro awoke with a heavy weight settled in his chest. Even after three and a half years, the sting never seemed to go away. He turned to the nightstand to shut off his alarm. The date glowed blue, reminding him that today would be a bad day, just like it had been every year since he returned to Earth: _April 12._

He fought back the immediate reactionary sting behind his eyes as he got up and got ready for the day. He’d have to be at work all day, but maybe he could find a way to stay in his office and do paperwork for most of the day. Usually that sounded like torture, but he just… didn’t feel like being around people. Not now.

The sound of the shower running in the other room told him that Keith was awake and would soon be ready to join him at the base. Shiro rinsed his cereal bowl and placed it in the sink, bracing himself to face the day. Eventually, it wouldn’t hurt so much to think about, right? Eventually he’d be able to see the memorial and not feel the overwhelming guilt of their breakup, or the way he acted toward Adam after the fact, before he left for Kerberos and never saw him again.

He sighed and waited for Keith to join him in the kitchen. Keith never ate breakfast, so as soon as he walked out dressed in his special red Garrison uniform, they were ready to leave. Shiro was relieved that Keith did not attempt to engage him in conversation; he understood what this day meant for Shiro after so many years together. It didn’t make him feel any less guilty for missing his ex-boyfriend when he was in the happiest relationship of his life, but at least he could mourn in the privacy of his own mind for just a little while.

The day passed the same as any other. He went to work, sat at his desk, surrounded himself in paperwork, delegated tasks that he didn’t need to do himself, and once even managed to take a few minutes to observe Keith running the simulators. Keith was an evil genius when it came to creating new simulations for the cadets to try. It was always fun to watch them suffer in equal parts frustration and determination to _finally_ beat one of Keith’s no-win scenarios. They never did, but they did seem to get a kick out of trying.

When it was time to leave for the day, he made one final stop before heading out to the car. It didn’t seem right to go without at least wishing Adam a happy birthday.

He stood in front of the memorial and traced a finger over the shiny plaque, so small and not nearly enough to honor the man that he had been. It would never be enough. Adam was a good man — a _great_ man. He was kind and tough and smart, and even though their relationship was never meant to last, Shiro would never think any less of him.

A hand settled on his shoulder and brought him back from his reverie. He turned just enough to glimpse his company in his periphery, but his eyes didn’t stray from the photo on the plaque. The hand on his shoulder trailed down his arm and linked with his own hanging at his side.

“Hey.” Keith gave his hand a little squeeze. He wasn’t rushing him, Shiro knew, just lending his support.

“Hey,” he responded, and was embarrassed to hear how rough with emotion his own voice sounded. He cleared his throat and Keith squeezed his hand again, just a little harder and a little longer.

“We can order Chinese tonight, if you want.” The offer made him smile just a little. Chinese takeout nights were always Adam’s favorite. Keith had been there for many of them when he was still a wild little cadet. The memory of Adam happily stuffing his face with beef lo mein made his heart hurt and soar at the same time. Shiro nodded, too choked up to trust his own voice.

They stood in silence for a few moments until Shiro was able to control his voice.

“He would have been twenty-nine today,” he said.

“I know.”

“Can we get beef lo mein?”

Keith squeezed his hand again. “Sure.” He shuffled a little closer and leaned up to place a soft peck on Shiro’s cheek. “I miss him, too, you know.”

Shiro nodded again. “I know.” And he did. Adam had always been kind to Keith, like a little brother, even if he didn’t always condone Shiro’s obvious favoritism toward him. Shiro still didn’t know what their relationship had been like after he left and the Kerberos mission was deemed a failure, and he didn’t know if he would ever have the courage to ask. He didn’t want to know if Adam had ever talked about him afterwards, or if he had mourned, or if he and Keith had been there for each other before Keith was kicked out, or if they had ever seen each other again after that. He just wanted to remember the Adam he had always known, who died way too young in a war he had no business fighting. He had never wanted to be a fighter. He should never have had to go up at all, not to fight, and certainly not as a sacrifice to the pride of a power-hungry admiral who knew nothing about the charge she was leading.

He wished there had been a real funeral for Adam after he got back to Earth; something that would showcase the kind of person he _really_ was, not just a memorial to a fallen soldier, a single incomplete name among the hundreds of others who died much the same way, among the same name that had put him up there and caused his untimely death in the first place.

“Did you know he loved punk music?” Shiro asked suddenly. Keith let out a startled laugh next to him.

“What? Adam? No he didn’t.”

Shiro smiled. “He did. He used to blast it in the car all the time when it was just the two of us. And he used to sing along, too. He sucked.” Shiro chuckled at the memory. “He was an awful singer, but he loved to sing.”

Keith rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder and sighed. “Tell me more stuff like that. Stuff I didn’t know.”

Shiro thought about it for a minute and then laughed aloud when he remembered another one. “You know that scene from that old movie _Risky Business_?” Keith _hmm’d_. “He reenacted the entire thing for me one night when I got home, tall socks and boxer shorts and all. But he couldn’t wear his glasses at the same time as the sunglasses, and it was dark, so his vision was terrible, and he knocked over a lamp. But he kept going. Finished the whole number.”

Keith chuckled against his shoulder. “What else?”

“He had a pretty twisted sense of humor when he wanted to. More twisted than mine, sometimes. And he was unnaturally good at shooting games. He kicked my ass every single time.”

“I didn’t even know he liked video games.”

“There was a lot about him that people didn’t know,” Shiro mused. “He played his cards pretty close to his chest. It took me years to get to know him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was worth it, though.”

Keith straightened up and pulled Shiro around to look him in the eyes. “He was a good man, Shiro. Anyone who met him knew that. I was lucky to know him.”

The first tear slipped out almost unnoticed as he looked into Keith’s eyes, always so understanding and supportive, no matter what. After that, he felt his face crumble, and he stooped to hide it in Keith’s shoulder so that he wouldn’t see the rest flowing out in a silent, steady stream. He felt Keith loosen his grip on his hand and wrap both arms around his shoulders, rubbing his back and breathing steadily in his ear. He didn’t know how long they stood that way, or if anyone else passed by to witness the scene, but he was powerless to stop the tears once they started. He just had to wait until it they were ready to stop on their own. Same as every year.

When he was able to pull himself back together, he lifted his head and wiped away any lingering tears. He felt exhausted, but better after letting out some of his grief. He would probably never really get over it, not completely, but he thought about it less and less every day, and eventually the raw pain would dull to a mild ache.

“Come on,” Keith said. “I’ll call in the order from the car. We can pick it up on the way home.”

Shiro flattened out the wrinkles in this uniform and sniffled one last time. “Alright,” he said. They turned and left the memorial together, hand in hand. He would never get to say goodbye, and that was the hardest part, but he had a new partner now who would never deny him the opportunity to grieve the loss of someone who was once a very large and very important part of his life, and for that, he was truly grateful.


End file.
